The Next Generation: Crossing the Line
by christiep
Summary: Head Girl Rose and Head Boy Scorpius have been carefully toeing the line for years- one to live up to her parents' reputation, the other to outrun his. What will happen when they lose their balance? Next Gen series, linked to In-Between series. T for safe
1. Prologue

The Next Generation: Crossing the Line

It shouldn't have ever happened.

There were a million and one reasons I should have been somewhere else, doing something else.

I could have been studying; NEWTS were just seven months away and Merlin knew I needed it- _**especially**_ in potions. I could have been sleeping- the first Gryffindor quidditch match of the season was in the morning. I could have been patrolling, doing my duty as head girl instead of asking that fifth year prefect to cover for me.

I should not have snuck out into the corridors without valid reason. I should not have taken the stairs toward the dungeons. I should not have 'borrowed' the invisibility cloak and Marauder's map from Albus. I should not have met _him_, alone in the middle of the night, especially not for what I was doing it for.

I was going against everything I was supposed to be. I was Rose Weasley, daughter of two members of the Golden Trio, dubbed the 'Golden Girl' by my schoolmates and the Daily Prophet. I was a Gryffindor. I was responsible, studious and talented.

Despite all of that, it did happen. I did creep out of my bed in the girl's dormitory, holding my breath and hoping none of the other girls would wake up as I slid the silvery fabric of the invisibility cloak over my head and disappeared. I did peek around the wall into the common room, to find that everyone had gone to bed. I did crawl out through the portrait hole, leaving the Fat Lady grumbling sleepily as she shifted in her frame. I did shuffle slowly down the passageway, passing the patrolling fifth year prefect, hoping my footsteps weren't as loud as they sounded in the absolute silence. I did take the stairs down to the dungeon, and I did stare intently at my watch, waiting for the last few seconds to pass and the portrait on my right to swing open.

It did. This time, however, things did not go according to plan.

**A/N: Just the prologue…many more details to come about our dearest Rose. Shouldn't be too hard to guess who the 'him' is **


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Explanations

I unconsciously sighed in relief as the portrait on my right swung out. My hand deftly slid out of my hair, the smallest amount of tension easing out of my shoulders. I had reverted to my nervous habit of tightly twisting the auburn strands around my fingers. Since I'd gotten older, my hair color had moderated, blending my father's red hair with my mother's brown. The curls bounced, perhaps in even tighter ringlets, as I released them.

I shifted my body weight nervously as a tall, lanky boy emerged from the hole behind the painting, his frame gracefully unfolding one limb at a time. He shook a shock of white-blond hair out of his eyes before turning to face me, zeroing in on my exact position despite my hidden state beneath the invisibility of the cloak. His intuition wasn't that at all, but a preciseness born out of years of practicing the same routine. I slid my hood back as he approached, knowing that, while he hated the way it made my head look disembodied, I hated talking to someone when they couldn't see me. It just felt impersonal.

I shook the silken substance back, my eyes focused on the smirking face of the boy in front of me.

"Didn't think I was going to make it Weasley?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course not Scorpius." Though these midnight runs made me impatient and jumpy, I knew that that the Slytherin had never failed me. "And I've told you a thousand times- I understand the pretense in front of all your little house mates, but considering our partnership, the least you could do is show some civility and call me Rose."

He raised his eyebrows. "Easier to keep up the pretense if I never let it down, isn't it?" he inquired smugly as his hand slipped into the pocket of his robes.

His long pale fingers withdrew from the folds of his robe as quickly as they had entered the black, clutching a small glass flask in their porcelain grasp.

He stretched his arm out toward me, his hand opening palm up. I took the container, holding it up to the light of the torch bracketed to the cool stone wall. The contents were crystal clear- a perfect brewing of the Draught of Living Death. I expected nothing less.

"Thanks Scorpius- I'll send a school owl with the translation for ancient runes in the morning. Oh- and don't forget- be in the prefect common room fifteen minutes early tomorrow so we can go over patrol duty assignments."

He nodded simply. "Yes, Head Girl." I scowled. "Well, it isn't your surname, is it? And you'd better get to bed if you don't want us to _completely _disgrace you tomorrow on the field."

"Shut up- _Head Boy_," I retorted, tacking on the last bit for the sake of equality. He narrowed his eyes maliciously at me, but for the briefest of moments I thought I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. I pulled my hood back up, shaking my head. Not possible- it had only been the flicker of the torches and shifting shadows. Scorpius Malfoy did not smile.

Without further exchange I unceremoniously turned on my heel. As I rounded the corner I heard the portrait to the Slytherin dormitories slide shut, and I continued on my way through the dungeons.

I crept silently toward the door, pulling my wand out of my back pocket. "_Lumos."_

The tip of my wand lit up at the utterance of the muttered spell. I held the Beech and unicorn hair rod up with one hand to examine the yellowed piece of parchment I held in my other. The map of the school grounds showed that just three dots were out in the corridors- Mr. Filch, Peeves and Mrs. Norris. Thankfully they were on the fourth floor and, as all three were standing by the library, it seemed the poltergeist had all of Filch's attention for the moment.

Tucking the parchment into a pocket on the inside of the cloak, I easily slipped into the classroom, not even needing to use _alohomora._ While there were locks on the potion ingredient stores, the room itself was never secured. I pulled the door to the frame behind me without closing it, wanting to avoid the noise it would make until I could be on my way back up to Gryffindor Tower.

Once inside, I wasted no time. I headed straight for the cabinet at the very front of the class, far left. I opened the door quickly, wincing at the squeak it produced. Hurriedly, I pulled out the flask at the very front and center of the wire rack inside with my left hand while simultaneously placing the one I had kept in my front pocket in its place with my right. Hands shaking, I ripped a piece of labeling tape off the roll next to the wrack and wrote my name with the supplied quill. I then pushed the wood and glass door closed and placed the original potion sample into the cloak with the map before marching directly out of the room.

After a quick check to my left and right from behind the heavy dungeon door, I stepped into the clear hallway and headed straight toward the staircase.

I sighed in relief when I hit the first stair, knowing that the worst was over. I trudged up the staircase, finally beginning to feel the tiredness that adrenaline had been pushing aside. I thought of the quidditch match against Slytherin the next day and darting side to side to keep the goalposts. The thought itself only served to exhaust me further. It seemed that lately, the further on I got at Hogwarts, the more difficult it was becoming to keep up.

I shook my head to myself, vaguely aware that I had just emerged into the first floor. Those thoughts would not do- I just needed to get to my soft bed up in the tower, and all would be better in the morning. With this goal I willed my eyes to stay open just a little while longer and plodded on to my right, moving toward the next staircase.

It was then that it happened. It was simple and stupid at the same time. It shouldn't have happened.

My wand somehow worked its way out of my back pocket, falling and rolling away toward the staircase by the entrance to the Great Hall with a dull clatter. I cursed under my breath, hurrying toward the fallen object. Hadn't Uncle Harry always told me not to keep my wand there? Explained to me that there were better places, that it wasn't secure? Of course I hadn't listened, thinking that there was no need to worry about someone taking it. It was just my uncle being an auror, hardened by war- it wasn't practical advice for _me_.

How wrong I was. I had just never considered _this _particular scenario.

After the initial shock of the sudden noise in the utter silence, I hurried forward, focused solely on where the wand had disappeared into the shadows, eyes peering down at the dark floor. Perhaps that's why I didn't notice that I wasn't alone.

"I don't know whether you're a Potter or a Weasley," rang out a clear, severe voice, "but very few students have access to an invisibility cloak. It would do you well to show yourself."

The speaker then stepped out of the shadows, holding my wand in their hand.

I bit my lip and closed my eyes, a hundred curses ringing through my head.

With a few seconds of consideration, I realized there really was no choice. I straightened solemnly, my stomach dropping lower by the minute.

I flicked my eyes open, and pulled off the cloak to reveal myself.

The headmistress blinked once. If she was surprised, her face didn't betray it. I saw only a calm seriousness as she pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Very well," she said after a few seconds of appraisal through her square spectacles, "Follow me Miss Weasley."

The older woman's dark grey and maroon tartan dressing gown swished around her as she turned toward the main staircase without looking back to check my progress.

Obediently, I hung my head and slowly moved my feet to follow after her. My worst nightmare was coming true.

Despite being no more than ten minutes, it felt like days before we emerged through the door at the top of the moving spiral staircase.

I was no stranger to McGonagall's office, though I usually visited under much different circumstances.

The expansive desk, the cluttered shelves, the tartan throws over the chairs and the sleepy portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses were all familiar. I nearly smiled at the memory of being called up to the circular office on the first day of classes at the beginning of the year to be debriefed on my duties as head girl, but the muscles surrounding my mouth merely twitched before the weight of my current situation crashed down around me.

At best, I was about to get a severe lecture about aimlessly prowling the halls at night. At worst, my career at Hogwarts was about to come to an end.

As I considered whether the headmistress would soon be snapping the wand she was still holding by her side, McGonagall bustled straight through the door to sit behind her desk. She shuffled her papers about so busily that I almost began to think that she had forgotten I was there. I lingered uneasily in the no-man's land between the door and the chairs facing her desk before her voice made me jump.

"Miss Weasley, if you don't mind, it is late and I would very much like to settle this matter so I can go back to bed," she stated calmly, shooting me a piercing glare. I nodded my head, swallowing as I sunk into the chair opposite her desk. The portraits behind her chair shifted uneasily in their sleep, several sneaking peeks from beneath their half-closed eyelids.

"Why am I not surprised…" intoned a deep snarky voice on the far right.

"That will not be necessary Severus," warned McGonagall, her expression becoming severer by the moment.

The sallow faced man I recognized from my history books as Professor Snape simply looked amused and didn't bother to pretend to go back to sleep. Instead, he stared directly at me, his piercing black eyes intent to see what would happen next. He obviously found the entire scenario enjoyable, and I remembered how my father and mother said they had never gotten along with the potions master.

I hardly had time to consider what that actually meant before McGonagall's dire tone snapped my attention back to the present instead of my parents' school days.

"Obviously, you have made a very serious infraction in the rules tonight Miss Weasley. Imagine my surprise, after gathering a couple of cookies from the kitchens, at finding an invisible student wandering the halls at night. Think of my astonishment when I found it was the Head Girl! How do you explain yourself?" The headmistress' tone was furious and scandalized, her pitch rising steadily. Her beady eyes penetrated my wide blue ones, waiting. My mind raced for an adequate reason for being out in the corridors after curfew.

There was no way I could use my responsibilities as Head Girl as an excuse. I knew I had already betrayed my guilt through my demeanor, and there was hardly an excuse in the world I could employ to explain my use of the invisibility cloak or the Marauder's map. For a moment I considered saying I had just come to sneak into the kitchens for a snack, but quickly remembered that the professor had been coming from there. Never mind that it was obvious that I had been coming from the other side of the Great Hall.

"Any time Miss Weasley," prodded the professor, impatient.

I looked at my hands in my lap. "I- I can't professor."

My feeble voice sounded small in the quiet of the room, and I heard a distinct 'hrumphh" come from Snape's frame.

McGonagall ignored him and her eyes hardened even further, disappointment flaring in their depths.

"Then I must ask that you hand over the cloak for my inspection."

My stomach churned. I was sure my skin turned green, but there was no denying Professor McGonagall. She was strict, and there was nothing to be done but comply with her demand.

With a trembling hand, I lifted the lump of silvery substance from my lap and held it across the desk. McGonagall looked over her square lenses at me, watching my expression as she took it from my hand. Even in the dim light, I could see that all color had drained from my skin. Indistinctly I realized this was it- it was all over.

All the hard work and careful precautions. Hours of studying, quidditch practices, and perfect behavior was going down the drain, all because I hadn't put my wand in the appropriate pocket.

"Anything you would like to say?"

My heart hammered- I had to say _something_. McGonagall took a hard-line on the rules, so it wouldn't matter whose daughter I was. In fact, it might make it worse. However, she had also once been head of Gryffindor and I knew she valued bravery and honor above all else. So, summoning all the spirit of Godric I had within me, I spoke.

My lips quavered, and my voice shook. "The inside pocket," I whispered, feeling resigned and quite a bit younger and smaller than I was. Vaguely, I realized tears were beginning to spill down my cheeks, fiery hot and wet. Six years of deception were coming down on top of me with full force squeezing the salty substance from my eyes.

McGonagall studied my face, obviously shocked and concerned. I realized she hadn't expected the depth of my reaction, and suddenly looked curious to find what could have possibly caused it.

Her wrinkled hands shifted through the folds of the silky fabric, searching.

For a moment, she looked nonplussed. First to emerge was the Marauder's Map, and it was unceremoniously placed on the desk top after a quick glance. The professor was apparently not surprised to see the object in company with the cloak. Then came the small glass container, holding a smooth but too thick lilac substance.

"A mediocre attempt at the Draught of Living Death?" she questioned, still confused for the moment. I only nodded. Snape made a noise of disgust and several of the other portraits abandoned all pretenses, eyes wide open and leaning forward for a better look at the unfolding scene. A few flitted to their neighbors' portraits, whispering quietly among themselves with shocked expressions. Only the portrait of Dumbledore seemed to be valiantly trying to mind his own business, snoring just a little too convincingly.

McGonagall held the bottle in her hand for a long minute, ignoring her predecessors, considering its purplish depths. Then, instantly, I saw wisdom rest over her features and the clues click together.

It wasn't too difficult of a puzzle- it had been obvious that I had come from the staircase that led to the dungeons. I was carrying a sample of potion that was a) not large enough to affect anyone larger than a mouse, b) not adequately brewed to produce much of any effect, even in said mouse, and c) the final bit of the beginning-of-the term review curriculum for 7th year NEWT level potions students.

"This _is_ serious…" she muttered to herself before turning her attention back to me. I wished she hadn't, such was the rage and intense judgment in her eyes. "and just how many times have you snuck down to the potions classroom to swap out your samples, Miss Weasley?"

The stern look on her face dared me to lie, and, curiously, triggered the hitherto dormant brazen bit of courage resting in my chest. Somewhat separated from the moment due to trauma, I realized that this was why the sorting hat had finally decided to place me in Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw after a full three minutes of deliberation so many years ago.

Fueled by this sudden fortitude of character, I decided coming clean was my best shot at redemption. After all, it wouldn't be difficult for McGonagall to determine if I was untruthful. If she asked me to brew a potion, all would be lost.

"Since winter term, first year."

Instantly, McGonagall's hand went to her heart. For a moment, I was convinced she was going to fall out of her chair. Alarmed, I remembered the tale of how the headmistress had taken four stunners to the heart all those years ago, before the bogus bureaucracy that was the Ministry at the time believed that the Second War had begun. Perhaps this was too much for her already-wounded heart to take. What would I do if she passed out?

In my concern, I hardly noticed the uproar that the occupants of the portraits had swung into, entirely unabashed. 'I never's and 'Unbelievable!'s echoed from painting to painting. That is, until a calm and steady voice broke through the clamor.

"Minerva- perhaps you should give the girl a chance to explain," Albus Dumbledore suggested, finally persuaded to intervene, though his tone was respectful. "I'm sure the girl has good reasons for her actions. Isn't that right Miss Weasley?" The half-moon bespectacled eyes turned to focus directly on me with the question, their bright blue depths sparkling with kindness. His face betrayed nothing but serious consideration.

I nodded weakly.

"Well then, let's hear it," McGonagall demanded, coming back to herself and taking back control of the situation. Dumbledore nestled back into his portrait, graciously pretending to go back to sleep.

I exhaled heavily and felt the weight of all my lies on my shoulders. Refusing to look at the present or past heads, I focused on the ground but managed to conjure up my strongest voice.

"I'm good at almost everything. I'm the best keeper Gryffindor has had since Oliver Wood, even my dad admits it. I ace my tests-,"

"honestly," I quickly added, quieting the murmurs around me, knowing that all trust had been broken. "Truly- I'm good at learning. I like to read, like my mother. My record has been spotless… you can give me veritaserum if you want, but I haven't broken any other rules."

I paused, considering how to explain how this all had anything to do with the serious offenses I had been repeatedly making over my entire career at Hogwarts. McGonagall was still steely eyed, waiting patiently.

"But I'm lousy at brewing potions," I finally admitted. I couldn't deny that just saying the words out loud, finally, lightened the weight on my chest minutely. Suddenly, a torrent of secret thoughts came tumbling out of my mouth, following the first. Soon, they were accompanied by a fresh batch of tears.

"The other practical elements aren't so difficult- I mean, transfiguration and charms just require a bit of mental focus. That's easy enough and not so different from learning theory. And everyone knows Divination- or Trelawney's version anyway- is rubbish, so I don't mind that so much," I paused, recognizing that I was rambling just as my mother often did when upset.

" But I c-couldn't tell anyone about potions. I knew that everyone expected me to be the best- look at my parents!" Anger suddenly and ferociously joined my personal pity party. "Why not! Hermione Granger-Weasley, brightest witch of the age! Ron Weasley, auror! Two of the 'Golden Trio!' There was no reason I shouldn't have been able to do it!"

I was sobbing in earnest now, enraged at my own behavior and the expectations I felt the wizarding world had of me. My vision was so clouded by salty wetness that I judged the bit of sympathy I thought I saw etched in McGonagall's face to be blurriness.

"Oh really Miss Weasley- surely you aren't that foolish. Here," she said, offering a handkerchief.

I accepted it, not considering the meaning of her words or her almost undetectably bemused tone due to my own embarrassment at my behavior, past and immediate. I wiped away my tears and as soon as my cheeks were dry, I willed myself to stop bawling like a child. There was nothing left to do but to face judgment.

"I suppose I should go pack my trunk," I mumbled, beginning to rise from my seat.

Instantly, I was met with rebuke. "Sit down!"

I immediately did as I was told, bracing for the onslaught. I hoped it would be brief, deciding the entire scene was already more than enough and that I wanted the end to come quickly.

"I will decide when to dismiss you- I still have several questions for you." I swallowed, waiting and aware of the keen scrutiny I was under.

"Is Mister Potter aware that you have been 'borrowing' his things?"

"No ma'am."

"Has he ever known?"

"No ma'am."

"Hmmm…very well. Then who is it?"

"W-what?" I asked, head shooting up from its bowed position, knowing full well what McGonagall was asking.

"Who has been supplying you with the potions?"

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "Come Miss Weasley- if Mister Potter isn't supplying the samples, then no other student in Gryffindor is. I happen to know for a fact that Mr. Finnigan and Mr. Thomas are barely scraping by in advanced potions,

"You, on the other hand, have been receiving top marks. That leaves just a few other students who could be helping you- so who is it?"

I sat tight-lipped, unable to speak. McGonagall narrowed her eyes, fixing her gaze intensely in my own. I knew that her judgment would be as good as veritaserum, but I still couldn't tear my eyes from her face.

"Perhaps a Ravenclaw? Maybe Mister Corner?"

"No? Miss Boot? No, not her either. Hmm…well then…but surely not- Mr. Malfoy?" she finally questioned, almost out of obligation to rule out the possibility. I swallowed out of reflex, trying to calm my nerves. Immediately, I knew I had betrayed myself.

McGonagall sputtered for a moment, shocked.

"Unbelievable." She whispered, blustering with quiet fury.

At the exact same moment, unmistakably, two other declarations stood out over the new outburst of gossip from the portraits.

"Pity," muttered Snape.

"Interesting," mused Dumbledore, covering the word with a quick snore, eyes still closed.

**A/N: Interesting fact: **_**"**_**Beech tree symbolism includes tolerance, past knowledge and softening criticism"**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Honestly, I don't even know if I like this chapter. It is a product of a rough battle with writer's block that has lasted for months, only to finally be defeated after a two week surge. I hope it was worth it. **

I would never understand how I was capable of sleep that night. However, as inexplicable as it was, I instantly drifted off the moment I collapsed into the downy softness of my four poster. The next-time my eyes opened, the first blinding rays of sunrise were filtering through the tower windows.

Mercifully, I had slept dreamlessly, obliviously unconscious. In retrospect, I could only surmise that the building exhaustion of my life paired with the outrageous events of the night before had induced such a state.

That morning though, as I kicked at the stifling heat of my heavy bed covers, my mind remained hazily clouded. Despite the fuzziness, I still couldn't help but think that I felt even more uneasy than I usually did in the morning. I knew I always awoke on edge, ready to set out on whatever taxing day I had ahead of me. But I couldn't shake the feeling that today was different, as indicated by the heavy weight of despair in my stomach. Why was I feeling so uneasy though? Today was Saturday. Saturday was the one day of the week I ever felt like I had any sort of a break. It wasn't obligation free of course- there was the Quidditch match against Slytherin. Malfoy and the rest of his team were sure to pull out every cheap, dirty trick in the book, but…

Damn. Malfoy. Suddenly, the feeling of dread metamorphosed straight to one of nauseating panic. Images of the tall blond flitted through my mind, followed by a clattering wand against stone and a disapproving McGonogall behind her desk, backed up by portrait Snape and Dumbledore.

As if electrocuted, I shot upright in my bed, swiping the back of my hand against my mouth to wipe away any excess drool. Adrenaline pushing my body into alertness despite my lack of sleep, I slung my legs out of bed in one swift movement. My bare feet padded across the cool floor while I swept my matted hair up into a ponytail. I faced the mirror, attempting to slow my quickening heartbeat.

Now that I was conscious, the night before was coming back to me in stunning clarity. Along with it came unrestrained fear and anxiety.

McGonagall had not said much more to me after her revelation that I, Rose Weasley- star pupil and Head Girl, had been cheating my way through Hogwarts for practically my entire school career. She had simply responded as she did to any shocking event, whether it were Weasley Wizard's Wheezes fireworks going off in the loo or a fight in the corridor. She blinked blankly twice then pursed her lips in thought. Just as I thought she was about to ask for my wand in order to snap it she dismissed me with the directive to be in her office by 7:30 AM.

Now, by the looks of things, it was already nearing that time and I wasn't even dressed and McGonogall's office was ages away. Frantic to not screw up this one thing, I quickly changed into a jumper and jeans and was just pulling on my second shoe when I heard a pecking at the window. Startled, I turned to find my father's barn owl, Grimboll, waiting patiently on the ledge with a small brown envelope tied to his leg.

Still trying to avoid waking the other four girls in my dormitory, I practically jumped out of my skin as I rushed to the window. I swung the wood-framed glass open, cursing its creaking hinges. After a couple quick pats to the head, I untied the envelope from Grimboll's leg. Looking tired, the owl directly took off, heading in direction of the school owlery.

For a moment, I wallowed in the luxury of envying the creature's carefree existence and opportunity to sleep as I so desperately wished to do. Then I snapped back to reality and closed the window. I sat on the edge of my bed to open the letter, nervous to see what it would say. I tore at the paper of the envelope and was rewarded with access to what could hardly be called more than a scrap of parchment. I immediately recognized the scrawl of my father's handwriting, seeing that it was even messier than usual, as if he had been in an extraordinary hurry.

_Rose,_

_ McGonagall has floo'ed us- we are very disappointed and will see you in the morning._

_ Your Parents_

I groaned, only slightly relieved to read what had been written on the note's reverse side:

_ Of course we also would like to hear your side Rosie- just be thankful I was able to stop your Mum from sending a howler._

_ Love, Dad_

Leave it to my father to find a way to circumvent my mother. I sighed. I shouldn't have been surprised- of course McGonagall had contacted my parents, especially given the severity of my infractions. Still, some part of me had blindly hoped that I would be able to deal with this on my own first. Now my parents would be there when I was expelled. I could just imagine their disappointed faces. What was I going to do?

Taking a deep breath, I decided I could only do one thing. The only honorable choice was to face it head on, like the Gryffindor I was supposed to be. '_Supposed_ _to be'_ being the key phrase. Last night was the first time I could ever remember doing anything valiant or noble in my life. Of course, that was a thought for another time.

The fact was, I was a Gryffindor and I had found that I at least had a tiny scrap of that trademark courage when I had made my confession the night before. McGonagall and my parents valued that. So if I was to have any hope at all of not being entirely shamed today, I was determined to make use of what I could. With that conviction, I silently slipped down the stairs, ready to face the music.

As I neared the gargoyle that guarded the doors to McGonagall's office, I had to admit that my previous steely determination to honorably deal with the situation had wavered a bit. I was further unnerved when the gargoyle simply swung aside as I approached, leaving my way to the staircase unhindered.

Despite my reservations I stepped onto the moving staircase and did my best to mentally prepare myself once more. I was decidedly less weak-stomached by the time I reached the top. Thankfully seeing my parents upon turning the corner was not a shock, and I even managed a half-hearted smile at my awkwardly grinning father while skillfully averting my eyes from my mother's face. I knew all too well the dissapointment I would see once I had to look at her. Instead of facing her, I stepped into my father's embrace, slightly comforted by the feel of his arms and the scent of home he carried with him. In comparison, my mother's one-arm embrace conveyed only the slightest motherly affection and revealed much more of her cold fury than anything else. I knew that by revealing myself as a cheater, I had just become the equivalent of a murderer in my mother's eyes, so I wouldn't have been surprised if she had started shouting at me right there. After all, she had learned from the best in both my Aunt Ginny and Grandmother Weasley.

Mercifully, McGonogall put an end to any more family reunion pleasantries and stopped any fit my mother was about to enter by clearing her throat.

"Now that we're all here," she began, business-like, "please do have a seat with your parents Miss Weasley."

It was only then that I noticed that my parents and the headmistress weren't the only ones in the office. When I turned my head to look toward McGonogall, I found myself also looking in the direction of the Malfoys.

Yes, Malfoy_s._

As in not only my partner-in-crime-slash-born-arch-nemesis, but also his former-death-eater-and-my-parents-ex-enemy father. His mother was also in attendance.

Bloody-freaking-great.

Why had I not realized that _of course_ McGonogall would also call in the other rule-breaker in this situation? And his parents?

Yet, once I got beyond Malfoy shooting daggers at me with his eyes, I couldn't help but notice that his mother was actually quite pretty with her rosy cheeks and refined features. If it hadn't been for the worry etched onto her face, I could have almost imagined a mischievous glint in her green eyes. Even more shocking, his father hardly looked the part of the scary villain I had cooked up in my head as a child. In fact, he looked down-right normal, if not a little tired around his mouth. There wasn't even any malice directed in the direction of my parents. If anything, it seemed that the man was keeping his head down.

Ok, well maybe there was the tiniest bit of distaste, but that was probably because my father was practically snarling at him as he guided me toward the desk.

In a hope that keeping my family separate from the Malfoys might somehow keep the proceedings peaceful, I took a seat next to Malfoy, ignoring his silver eyes and the feeling that they were boring holes through me.

Before we were all even settled in, McGonogall began immediately, using her best disapproving and matter-of-fact tone.

"You are all well aware of why you have been called here," she stated, hands folded sublimely on her desk. "I have never been so shocked by or disappointed in any two Hogwarts students, and find it a disgrace to Hogwarts that the two top students- head boy and head girl at that- are nothing more than a pair of very clever cheaters. I…"

It was at that point that Mr. Malfoy broke the parental silence, interrupting the professor. I watched in awe as he spoke- no one ever interrupted the headmistress.

"With all due respect professor, while I acknowledge that it seems my son has made an obvious transgression, I also must demand that he be given his chance to tell his side of the story. Are we to simply take the word of the Weasley girl, because if so…"

Now it was Mr. Malfoy's turn to be interrupted, and when I turned to look at my father, I saw that his face was turning a lovely shade of red that nearly matched his hair. This was exactly what I had been afraid of- old rivalries seemed to be coming to the surface and we had only been together in this room for a few minutes.

"Right, because if one them is dishonest, its my daughter, not the _Malfoy_…"

"Ron, stop it!" my mother scolded, hand resting on my father's arm as if willing him to remain seated. She looked scandalized and turned to apologize profusely to McGonogall. Mrs. Malfoy, on the other hand, was obviously somewhat of a third party to this entire situation, demurely placing her hand over her husband's, mirroring my mother's actions but in a much more contained manner. The woman deserved a medal for placidity.

"That will be _quite_ enough!" McGonogall commanded, looking severe, waving off my mother's apologies. In a moment every party in the room silenced, settling back into their chairs, though not without a few huffs and puffs. Had the situation not been so serious, I might have even laughed out how the two grown men in the room looked determinably uneasy as they shifted in their chairs under McGonogall's piercing gaze.

"While I do not appreciate either yours or Mr. Weasley's insinuations about each other's families Mr. Malfoy, I do grant that you have a point,"

"What the-" my father began, before being effectively silence by the glares of both my mother and the headmistress. Just in time too, as I was sure that one of his trademark, improper outbursts would have followed if not checked. McGonogall continued, voice strained and lips thin.

"Therefore, it is only fair to allow Mr. Malfoy a chance to give us his side of this matter. And I must admit I am a bit blurry on details- so, Mr. Malfoy, please do explain to us your involvement in this situation."

Immediately, I noticed a flicker of the same insecurity on our fathers' faces in the presence of McGonogall on Scorpius'. That is, for a moment. A second later I could have imagined it as he drew up a bit straighter in his chair. My stomach churned at how he could still look so…haughty…in a situation as serious as this one. Suppressing a gag, I wondered what he was possibly about to say to explain how this had all started.

Would he tell everyone that I had roped him into it? Probably not, as no one would believe it. Perhaps he would tell them how he had walked in that December afternoon after the final lessons of the day to find me desperately trying to correctly brew a batch of the boil cure potion. Or how he had pestered me long enough to find out that Professor Vane, out of an old soft spot for my Uncle Harry, had been allowing me second chances at brewing each potion so I wouldn't fail. He might mention that I had still only been able to produce hardly acceptable versions of each assignment and he had ultimately offered to exchange his perfect samples of each potion if I would do his homework for the required Muggle Studies course that he hardly found worth his while. He might elaborate how over the years I had completed any assignment for him that he wished, on the claim that he didn't want to waste any of his precious time on 'worthless' busy work, though he probably could have done it all at top speed, given his level of intelligence.

Of course, given that he _was_ intelligent, he finally gave a heavily edited version of events. I simultaneously shuddered at the sickening silky-smooth, confident tone of his voice while also envying his ability to keep his cool.

"Professor McGonogall, I wish to offer my apologies for my mistake and can only say that I made a misguided attempt to aid a fellow classmate and allowed it to go too far. I am honestly sorry, and promise to do better in the future."

Malfoy was extremely gifted at making nothing sound like a whole lot of something I decided. I nearly guffawed at the git's explanation, biting my lip to maintain a straight face. This feat was only made more complicated by the fact that I happened to notice that McGonogall obviously wasn't buying what Malfoy was selling either.

"Well, while I appreciate the _heartfelt_ apology, I must admit I am still in the dark about what could have possibly inspired this partnership, particularly from two students that seemingly have no desire to interact outside of their necessary duties."

I winced at McGonogall's assertion, recollecting how obvious it had been at the beginning of the year that neither of us had any desire to work so closely with the other. Funny, considering.

" However," the headmistress continued, "as you seem unwilling to explain any further, perhaps I can ask you Miss Weasley?"

McGonogall turned on me, and any trace of disbelieving humor immediately vanished from my face. I swallowed, trying to remember my previous determination to live up to expectations this once. With this goal in mind, I chose to get directly to the point, the words spilling out of my mouth without any .

"First year, Professor Vane allowed me opportunities to earn extra credit by re-brewing the potions. I was still barely passing, and Malfoy discovered that and made a proposition."

"Which was?"

Ignoring the death glares that were most certainly coming from the prat in the chair beside me.

"He would provide potion samples for me that I could swap with my own in exchange for my completion of his less desirable assignments."

The room was silent, but the tension in the room was palpable. My father fidgeted in his seat, fiddling with a string on the hem of his shirt. My mother's face was the picture of shocked disbelief. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy sat perfectly still while Scorpious simply clutched at the arms of his chair, his knuckles turning white.

Only McGonogall still appeared unfazed.

"Well Mr. Malfoy? Is that an accurate explanation?"

Every eye in the room turned to look at Scorpius, and somehow I managed to take a sideways peek as well. I was on a roll with this whole courage thing. I noted that Malfoy's entire body was tensed, and that his features were marred with outright anger, rather than the shame that I was sure was visible on my own. With his jaw clenched he muttered a simple one word reply- "Yes."

Ignoring the slightest sound of disgust coming from the portrait of Snape, McGonogall pressed on, all business.

"Very well then. I don't need to hear anything else- I have made my decision."

My mind spun- this was it. I was about to be expelled. What was I going to do? Would I learn to live like a Muggle? Would they perhaps let me stay on, maybe work with Hagrid- after all, he had been expelled too. Not that I had any interest in the care of magical creatures…

"Mr. Malfoy and Miss Weasley," she began, as I held my breath along with every other person in the room. "Given the gravity as well as the number and habitual nature of your offenses, you will both hand over your Head badges before you leave this office. You are also, effective immediately and until further notice, stripped of the privilege of playing for your house quidditch teams. Furthermore, you will report to detention each Friday evening, as well as Saturday mornings."

What happened after this proclamation, I can hardly detail. Though I recognized angry voices flared, I was lost in my own disbelief. I could only think that I hadn't been expelled.

I couldn't begin to understand why not, but I immediately felt relief despite recognizing the radical change that was coming to my life at Hogwarts and the tarnish that would now forever mar my 'perfect' record.

Ultimately, it was my mother's voice that finally brought me back to the present.

"But professor, what could you possibly need them for every weekend?"

"Hermione," she began, shocking me by using my mother's first name, "trust me when I say I am giving both Mr. Malfoy and your daughter an extraordinary opportunity. Of course, should any party object, then either student is free to leave. However, it should be noted that their transcripts would have to be voided as it is uncertain which grades they have truly earned, given the circumstances."

Silence fell once more- everyone understood that voided transcripts meant broken wands, and the threat was enough to end any argument. McGonogall looked satisfied with the unspoken agreement given, and pushed her chair back.

"Very well. Then I thank you all for your presence this morning, and trust that you can each find your way out- I expect that Mr. Malfoy and Miss Weasley have some hard news to break to their teams now, and I have my own announcements to make at breakfast this morning. I will see you both Monday- you will receive directions by dinner that evening. Good day."

And with that, McGonogall stepped away from her desk and left the office, leaving six very shocked people in her wake.

Mrs. Malfoy was the first to break the ensuing silence.

Laying a hand on her son's shoulder, she stood from her chair.

"We'll write soon Scorpious- please do make the best of this." She leaned down and kissed his forehead gracefully and somehow proprietarily before looking at her husband pointedly. Brows furrowing together, Mr. Malfoy stood as well.

"Just remember who you are son." He stated simply, shaking Scorpius' hand before following behind his wife. I rolled my eyes at the insinuation of the old Malfoy pride, while also noting that Mrs. Malfoy nodded at my own mother with something that looked less like common courtesy and more like some sort of motherly understanding or sympathy.

While his parents left, Scorpius sat glued to his seat, seemingly still seething by the looks of his tense body language. He didn't even spare either of his parents much of a response.

However, I had little time to consider this before my own parents stood, ready to leave.

I swallowed instinctively as I stood as well, worried at what their actions might be now that the headmistress was out of the room.

Fortunately, it didn't seem that I had lost any esteem in the eyes of my father. He pulled me into the overly-enthusiastic bear-hug embrace that I've known for as long as I could remember.

"Good luck Rosie- it will all work out. Always does." He said, grip tight. "Love you sweetheart."

As he stepped back, my mother eased forward, far more tentative. Of course, that was nothing short of usual. While my father is spontaneous and boisterous, my mother is just as reserved and thoughtful. Except when she isn't, of course. I could only hope that she would not have one of her emotional, over-reactive episodes today.

"Rose, I am disappointed, but I also appreciate your forthrightness today. I trust you will make this right," she stated sternly, using her best mothering-skills to guilt-trip me. It was working.

"But," she said, stepping closer and pulling me into a hug much more genuine than our greeting embrace, "I also love you. We'll see you at Christmas- give Hugo and your cousins our love."

And with that, my parents left, my father sparing one shy smile and wave over his shoulder.

This, of course, left me alone with Malfoy.

Somehow, that fact made me more nervous than my mother had just moments before. I turned around, finding that the pale blond was still seated.

I shuffled my weight from foot to foot, wondering whether I should just leave. Somehow I felt like I should say something. After all, while I absolutely detested Malfoy, we had become oddly interlinked over the past several years.

Just as I was contemplating a muttered goodbye and hasty exit, Malfoy spoke up.

"This is all your fault Weasley," he stated malevolently, not even bothering to turn and face me.

I narrowed my eyes, feeling that I was on the brink of my emotional stability. Honestly, I didn't think I had the energy left to deal with this at the moment and all thoughts of owing Malfoy anything were suddenly erased, rage bubbling inside me at this unjust statement.

"Right, because you didn't benefit at all Malfoy," I stated sarcastically. _Not to mention start it._

He shook his head, finally rising from his seat and turning to face me.

"But I didn't get caught, did I?"

He breathed the questions directly into my face, having stormed across the room, causing me to shrink in fear as he gripped my upper arm.

Then, just as suddenly, his face melted back into the emotionless smirk I was so used to before he unceremoniously left the room.

Alone, I finally let a tear drift down my cheek.

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